Saturday, 11 April 2015

Two generations feed on
one body of yours,
served for starve and lust.
You are made love to 
sadly, sans making you feel loved
leaving thou empty yet
so much so it hurts
through each lump of every organ.
The touch of your own hand
more promising though
doesn't feel the same,
You've let men guest on you
for the fantasies of your love
you aimlessly accommodate
in and out
blood, bones and bodies,
till letting go
becomes forgetting and 
forgetting becomes familiar.
You've been taught to hold on 
till forever.
So you hold on 
to being a woman
to being the stronger version of humanity.

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